Miracles and more miracles
“Everything is a miracle. It is a miracle that one does not dissolve in one’s bath like a lump of sugar.” Pablo Picasso
I never thought much about miracles until I became pregnant. Or more so than when I gave birth. I am not surprised that a pregnant woman looks beautiful to many men. How could anyone not be awed by the image of a child lying under its mother’s heart, swimming through her belly, coming to earth through her body?
I loved my son from the first moment I knew of him. Months later, when he first swam like a minnow inside my belly – startling and amusing me, I loved him even more. I knew him more when he began to kick me so hard I could grasp his little foot jutting out my side. I swore allegiance to all his needs – and knew I’d fight for him like a tigress if ever necessary the moment I met him. He was a miracle and he opened me to the possibility of endless other miracles.
Clouds of butterflies visit my little garden; a hummingbird unexpectedly stops in front of my face and hovers there, the two of us equally astonished. Tree bark and red and yellow autumn leaves … miracles. My son’s first smile, his first laugh. The overwhelming joy I felt. The earth’s miracles. How could I ever have missed them? Miracles and gifts. Gifts and miracles.
As Peggy Noonan once said, “I think miracles exist in part as gifts and in part as clues that there is Something beyond the flat world we see.”
Meditation for the Day
There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. Albert Einstein
Action for the Day
Today, I choose to live each day as the miracle it is, given freely to me. No charge and to do with as I wish. I’ll fill this day with miracles of sight, sound and senses as if it is the only day I will ever receive. And I’ll give thanks.
Angels amongst us
“Angels come in all sizes and shapes and colors, visible and invisible . . . But always you are changed from having seen one.” Sophy Burnham, author of Book of Angels
The party was 30 minutes away; still, she told her date they would have to take a detour. “It’s an emergency,” Carolyn said.
The weather had turned cool. Carolyn, a kindergarten teacher, had eggs in a class incubator. “Her” children were excited – their chicks were almost ready to hatch. She wouldn’t disappoint them by letting the incubator’s temperature drop too low to hatch the little chicks. “They are like little chicks themselves,” she thought.
Amanda, principle of a small school, worried about a new incoming third grader. In a former school, a teacher insisted he write with his right hand although it was obviously deformed. In second grade, older boys held him up for his lunch money. In third grade, his classmates mocked his disabilities, calling him horrific names. So Amanda, whose students loved her, asked her third grade class to give this little boy a special welcome to their school; they did and his life changed.
Nearby, an orphan child attended a parochial school. Away from the orphanage, Amy was very shy; she rarely spoke. The one thing she enjoyed was a physical education class where she was learning folk dancing. One day, her teacher, Sister Mary Cecile, kept the little girl after school. The young nun chatted with her and then shared a secret; she had once been a chorus girl dancing in a night club. Amy was so astonished that she blurted out, “You! When? Where?” And she began to talk; some teachers later said too much.
Meditation for the Day
“Every blade of grass has its angel that bends over it and whispers, ‘Grow, grow.’” The Talmud
Action for the Day
Today, I will remember that angels come to us in disguises. I will be kind to strangers because others who did entertained angels without realizing it.
Forever memories
American actor, writer, producer and director Ben Affleck once said, “Memories, all those little experiences make up the fabric of our lives and on balance, I wouldn’t want to erase any of them, tempting though it may be.”
The single most fascinating game created by Generation X is one question. If you could take one and only one memory of your life on earth with you into eternity, which memory would you choose? And why?
Once asked this question at the end of an interview relating to the late D.C. Metropolitan Police Chief Maurice T. Turner, Jr., Chief of Police Gary Albrecht, U.S. Capitol [Federal] Police, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. After a few moments, he opened them and said:
“This is a bittersweet memory. We were sitting in his (Turner’s) office . . . and he was talking about his concerns for the difficult situation he was in as Chief of Police where there was possible illegal drug involvement on the part of the Mayor (Mayor Marion Barry). It was a situation that required great political courage and personal integrity. He was wrestling with all this while still trying to maintain that positive view of the city he had. . . This memory of him as the hopeful, forward looking person in the face of some pretty serious calamities will always be cherished by me.”
Another police officer, a young patrolman, had a different answer – one that touched and revealed. During the year he knew this author, he insisted that he loathed his father who had abandoned his mother and 13 children. Then, one night when asked this simple question, his mind and heart turned to the past.
As nearby city fountains gurgled and night lights flickered over Washington’s historic Union Station, he turned inward and said, “I would take this one day that I always loved with me. My dad would take us out at night for ice cream – any kind we wanted. I would get a cone with a double dip of strawberry ice cream. My brothers and my dad and I were all so happy then.” He smiled, those evenings with his dad shining from his eyes — and then his eyes dimmed and his voice faded into silence.
Meditation for the Day
“God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.” J.M. Barrie
Action for the Day
Today, I will answer this question. “If I could take one memory of my life on earth – and only one — with me into eternity, which memory would it be?
Generosity - from me and from thee
“You will discover that you have two hands. One is for helping yourself and the other is for helping others.” Audrey Hepburn Actor and UNICEF representative
A long table is covered with breads, cheeses, sliced ham and bologna, mayonnaise and mustard. It’s an assembly line set up to make sandwiches for the homeless. A young woman stands at one end, surrounded by 12 joking men.
“Okay, what do I do?” asks one. “Do I put mustard on all the bread?” asks another. “I always put on the cheese. I know how much to put on,” says a third. Soon, the cheerful volunteers have their assembly line rolling along. The young woman cheers them on. Their guest is justifiably impressed.
Later Kathy, an Occupational Therapist, speaks of her patients. “A family member heard of a church that makes lunches for the homeless; they wanted to do it, too. They’ve been doing it for six months; it really lifts their spirits. Who are they? Well, Joe was a scientist in the space industry. He sometimes remembers a little bit about those days. Murray was a Colonel in the US Marines. He was quite a hero in Viet Nam. Does he remember those days? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. They all like Mondays. After lunch, a dancer comes to dance with them. Joe loves to dance. Mike does, too. Mike’s daughter says he won awards dancing. Come on, they want us to eat with them. They are so proud of this work they do.”
The 12 well dressed, attractive men ranging from middle age to mid-sixties are Alzheimer’s patients in a Day Care program. The program helps caretakers get a break while the men receive stimulation not otherwise available. It is obvious that this weekly act of charity for others truly lights up their lives.
Meditation for the Day
“We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.” Mother Teresa of Calcutta
Action for the Day
Somewhere, somehow, someone can use my hands today. How can I add my drop to this ocean of humanity – and by doing so, add more depth to my own humanity?
Mothers and Daughters
“I am fooling only myself when I say my mother now exists only in the photo on my bulletin board. She lives on in everything I do. . . Her presence influenced who I was, and her absence influences who I am. . .” Hope Edelman, author
When May was eight, her great aunt Julia said her talent for sewing was inherited from her mother. Her quickly whispered words filled the little girl with warmth. Beginning at age six, she was forbidden to hear of or to see her mother. Her parents were divorced then; they were bitter enemies. She was their hostage.
May began looking for her mother when she 16. She found her when she was 40. “My mother, my mother, my mother,” her heart sang as she almost fell out the plane door. Not a slouch for drama either, her white haired mother held garden roses and a home made welcome sign while her escort videotaped the two women’s tear-filled race across the tarmac.
For two decades, they met in California or in Washington, DC – their homes. They traveled together; they hung out. Bit by bit, May learned about their earlier life. The funny song May sang since age five was one her mother taught her. At age 24, May worked in the New York City garment district where her mother worked as a pattern maker. Her mother was a great cook; May was known for her pastries. Her mom was a glamour girl until her death at 92. Today, May feels her mom with her whenever she adds a little bling to her wardrobe.
Yes, May is me and Mom is now in my memory bank. She’s no longer the mother I cried for when a child; she’s the complex, talented, sometimes cranky woman who was Mother. And when I finally met and knew her, I found more of me.
Meditation for the Day
“In search of my mother’s garden I found my own.” Alice Walker
Action for the Day
Today, I will appreciate my mother. I will consider the months I lived under her heart and be pleased with whatever she gave me – large, small or simply bling.
Fathers and Sons
“The most important thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother.” Theodore Heisbold
My Uncle Vincent was a very small man in stature; while a youngster, he fell from a fire escape far above the city street where he lived. His spine was severely damaged; the injury limited his growth. At his tallest, he was four foot tall and delicate looking. However, he worked hard to create a good life for him and his. He worked in a fabric mill, mixing beautiful colors used to dye rayon’s and silks, and eventually became a well respected union steward. However, his brightest glory lay in his talents as husband and father.
He loved and married a neighbor girl who, though taller and larger in girth than he, was a perfect mate. Aunt Mildred recognized Uncle Vincent’s wonderful tenderness, his sweet nature, and his willingness – even eagerness — to take on the responsibilities needed to grow the large family she dreamed of having.
Most of all, he taught his eight children – three girls, five boys – how to love. And they never failed him. They showed unending tenderness towards their mother; they deeply loved their father. They were extraordinarily respectful to them and to each other. They shared their parents’ faith and practiced it regularly. Before he died, they brought him grandchildren. After he died, one or the other tenderly nurtured their mother until she, too, left this world.
Although he was never rich with money, Uncle Vincent was one of the richest fathers I’ve ever known. What better epitaph can any of us hope for?
Meditation for the Day
“Every father should remember that one day his son will follow his example instead of his advice.” Anonymous
Action for the Day
Today, I will reflect on my father’s examples for me. Were they good examples that taught me how to love and respect my mother and others? If I am a father, are my actions good examples for my children?
Very powerful words
“I’m sorry.” In some families, please is described as the magic word. In our house, however, it was “I’m sorry’”. Margaret Laurence
One evening, I realized that three of the 12 steps used by members of Alcoholic Anonymous are rooted in the willingness to make amends — to say “I’m sorry.”
Here is the most tragic love story I know. It’s about a man who did and said everything he could to gain his past back – except two words: “I’m sorry.”
He was passionately in love; his love loved him. Their wedding was scheduled for Valentine’s Day, 1964. They were in their own private Garden of Eden, they told others. Then her woman’s composer-musician fiancée gained a persistent, aggressive female fan; the couple argued and the woman went home to think. When she unexpectedly returned, she discovered the girl tucked into bed with her fiancée. The woman walked out. Her lover followed her; he begged her to return. He followed her to her job, to her new home. He said he didn’t want to live without her. She wept; she swore she loved him, too. But no, she couldn’t return. For decades, he periodically contacted her and asked her to return. For decades, she continued to love him but continued to say No. Then he died.
When his friends mourned with her, they asked: Why did you never say yes to his entreaties? This was her answer: “He never said he was sorry for the hurt he caused us. I couldn’t trust him because he never acknowledged that his betrayal changed my life and broke my heart — and he never tried to heal it.”
Meditation for the Day
“I’m sorry” cannot change the past, but it can offer a future. As G.K Chesterton said, “The injured party does not want to be compensated because he has been wronged; he wants to be healed because he has been hurt.”
Action for the Day
Today, I will try to put myself in the place of someone I have hurt and will consider what words I would find most healing. Can I say – and mean—“I’m sorry?” If I have hurt someone, nothing less will do.
Can ya’ come out and play?
December 4th Can ya’ come out and play?
“We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.” George Bernard Shaw, 1925 Nobel Prize for Literature
It’s said a three-year-old child gets as much fun out of finding a small green worm as getting a pricey toy. That three-year-old must be related to our 77-year-young neighbor.
Ever since she moved next door to us, Sarah has been on her knees, digging in the dirt. Yesterday, she waved us to come see what she found there. We ambled over, took a peek and were stymied. It was white, wiggly and had a yellow head with a somewhat visible face. It is a common sight in Texas soil.
“Look, a worm,” said Sarah, a newly transplanted Northerner. “Doesn’t that mean the dirt is good?” I didn’t have the heart to offer an honest reply. She was having too much fun. However, my son spoke out with delight in his superior knowledge. “It’s a grub. It grows in the dirt, too, but it can kill your grass,” he said ominously.
“Oh, no,” Sarah said, wiggling it at the end of her garden tool. “Are you sure?” My youngster relented. “Well, it can help the grass, too. It depends on how many. You don’t have to worry unless you start getting bare spots in your lawn.”
Good, she was smiling again. She tenderly covered her little white grub with topsoil. “Well, I’ll just keep looking at my grass,” she said, “and then if they take over, I’ll just chop them into little pieces.” She said this with such glee that I could see a lawn covered with little grubs holding up their heads or whatever grubs hold up in total surrender.
Meditation for the Day
We are never more fully alive, more completely ourselves or more deeply engrossed in anything than when we are playing.” Charles Schaefer
Action for the Day
Today, I’ll find my version of a grub to play with for fun. How about a swift game of hopscotch? Or how about pushing a swing to the sky and back? What is my idea of play? Do I remember?
Why Reconciliation?
“It takes one person to forgive; it takes two people to be reunited.”
Lewis B. Smedes
Some years ago, two people from two very different political positions sat on a college stage, side by side, sharing their perspectives with the students. The male was a Palestinian. The female was Jewish. They both came from the East Bank of Israel. Each had suffered family losses during Israeli-Palestinian violence’s. They met; they took part in a forgiveness experiment; they both forgave – and worked to understand each other.
Then they decided to travel the world – together – to teach the possibility of reconciliation. First, the woman Hannah Levi said all those who hate have to learn who they hate. And why. The deepest reasons why. In order to do this, said the man Ari Daoud, they had to learn how to communicate with each other. None of it was easy, they both agreed.
Through all their work they learned that they both wanted the same things: shelter, food, their families close, safety for their loved ones, growth, a time of peace, love in the world, roots for their children.
They soon realized they could have none of these things until they could learn to respect each other’s views – to understand if not agree with them. Then they had to learn to be open to the possibility of reconciliation. Eventually, they did all this. Now they were trying to share these possibilities with others.
Today, voices in Iraq, the Sudan, Turkey, Taiwan, Australia and other nations throughout the world are raised in pleas for reconciliation. Here, in America, we pray for our leaders to gain the wisdom needed to embrace negotiations and to understand the art of reconciliation.
However, we need not be part of a national movement to demonstrate and teach the art of reconciliation. We can start right here, right now, with our loved ones, our neighbors, our tradespersons, our colleagues. Remember the old saying: Bloom where you are planted?
Meditation for the Day
The most important trip you may take in life is meeting people half way. Anon.
Action for the Day
Today, I’ll practice negotiations aimed at reconciliation. I will not only go half way; I’ll go a little bit further. Today, I’ll accept that a negotiation allowing a win for the other guy as well as for me is the only path to reconciliation.
And a hardy-haw haw!
“I have seen what a laugh can do. It can transform almost unbearable tears into something bearable, even hopeful.” Bob Hope
Once upon a time, during what was called the Korean Police Action, a 19 year old became a hero. His story was front page news; folks in his little industrial town in New Jersey were proud of him. His family was astonished. His actions were so unlike the shy introverted boy they knew.
According to the reporter who investigated the teenager’s experience, this is what happened. James’ platoon was almost all killed by the Korean enemy. James and another teenager, Isaac, were captured and held prisoner. Later, James got loose of his fetters and slit their guard’s throat. Then the two youngsters ran in a desperate attempt to save their lives. Soon discovered hiding in a rice paddy, both were shot. Isaac was unable to walk. James’ right hand was severely damaged. Nevertheless, the tall lanky Christian kid from New Jersey hoisted his Jewish comrade over his shoulder and continued on.
Thanks to James, the two found their way to safety. Both received Purple Hearts. James was awarded two Purple Hearts, a Bronze Star and a Silver Star. The newspaper article said he was recommended for the Medal of Honor.
James was sent to a hospital far from home; his family was too poor to visit him. So they sent candy, homemade cookies, and clippings from their home town paper. His two younger sisters wanted to do so much for him — and could afford so little. Finally, they decided to make a gift for him. One made of laughter.
They gathered as many cartoons as they could find. Neighbors contributed magazine cartoons; children shared their cartoon books. James’ sisters attached them to an empty toilet paper cardboard roll. They pasted the cartoons end to end until the roll was thick with cartoons. Then they sent it, the only gift they could afford to give the big brother they loved dearly.
Months later, long after the candy and cookies were gone, the cartoon toilet paper roll was still making the rounds of the military hospital — still lifting a spirit here, still inspiring chuckles in wards filled with our damaged heroes.
Meditation for the Day
“A laughing man is stronger than a suffering man.” Gustave Flaubert
Action for the Day
Today, I’ll start the habit of giving away a laugh to whomever I meet each day. Large or small – a chuckle or a huge belly laugh, echoes of their laughter will come back to feed my soul a hundred times over.
